


And This Is How It Starts

by so_alourrying



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Be prepared for Anxious!Louis, But they're dead before it starts, But things become okay I promise, Like for realz, M/M, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, although there is love, and sex, but this is not one of those "i fell in love so i'm okay again" stories, maybe more than okay, probably the most real thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:31:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4746569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_alourrying/pseuds/so_alourrying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Harry!” The shout was delivered with anger. Louis immediately regretted it. It’s not like Harry knew. “I don’t have his number because he no longer has one. He passed away.” He exhaled slowly through his nose, slipping his eyes closed, bracing for impact.</p><p>“Oh. Oh, Louis, I’m so sorry.” Normally Louis would be spitting at comments like this, but something about Harry made him change his mind.</p><p>Or Louis transfers to an American University because of a haunted past. Harry is his TA and tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And This Is How It Starts

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so. This is a story of a very anxious and bipolar Louis. If that is at all triggering to you, please don't read! Also, there is mention of someone who committed suicide, a comeout, mania, and a few panic attacks. I promise that this is a mostly happy story, it just contains some very realistic mental health issues. I have tried my best to paint mental illness in the best way that I can, in the sense that these are all real feelings/stories that have happened to me and I have kept it as realistic as possible. I am okay right now, and the characters in this story will be too. (:

Louis took a much needed deep breath as he halted in front of the lecture hall doors. Of freaking course he was late to his first lecture at his new posh American uni. After the plethora of essays, questionnaires, and documents he completed to transfer, he was going to tarnish his record by being late.

Maybe...Yeah. Maybe he could just turn around and slip back into anonymity and show up to the next class. But. Maybe this was one of those professors that took attendance at big lectures? Maybe he’d call him out in the next class for having been absent, and then what? But. What if he called him out now for being late? But...

“Hey, bro,” Louis whipped around, trying to conceal his feelings of sheer terror and panic into something like mild surprise. “You gonna go in, or…?” A boy with raven-colored hair and a bored facial expression was gesturing towards the door in a sweeping motion.

“Uh. Yeah.” Instant regret seeped into Louis’ veins. He wasn’t ready to make split decisions, or at least, that’s what his therapist said.

Louis’ frail hands held the door open for the boy to walk through. He held back to take another shaky breath. He was usually more composed than this. He had trained himself into thinking that transferring would be a good thing--new country; new school; new friends; new memories. Escaping the past, right? New start, right?

Sure, but all it felt like now was another slit in his already severed psyche.

He stepped into the classroom and instantly felt ease in the fact that not a single person looked up at his appearance and the lecture hall was just big enough that he could slip into the edge seat without alerting the professor. He saw the guy from the door already scrolling through his phone, slumped in a seat two rows up.

The only other person in his row was a boy at the opposite end, head ducked so his chocolate-colored curls made a halo over his keyboard. He seemed to be the only person in the room with a laptop, whereas every other student held poorly concealed cell phones.

The curly-headed boy looked up every few seconds to feign eye contact with the professor. Louis chanced a glance at the man now that he was safely inside without reprimandment. He was older, balding and a little overweight. He was speaking so enthusiastically about kayaking. Louis admired his confidence. The last time he was in front of a crowd speaking about anything, let alone something he loved, was his 4th grade show-and-tell presentation of his turtle, Mac.

Louis turned his attention to his notebook that he had pulled out as quietly as possible while still staring at the professor so as to not disturb anyone around him and also pretend as if he was listening intently.

He opened to a fresh page and carefully wrote the date in the upper right-hand corner. He then began to write “Day One,” but his “n” was a little too close to the “O” so he scribbled it out. He sighed; the whole page was ruined. He made a mental note to tear it out later when he could rip the page without disturbing others. But. But then the page following would already have an indent. He made a mental note to buy a new notebook later.

“And with that, have a great first day! I’ll see you again on Wednesday!” The professor called out with a flourish of hand movements. Students began to chatter and rustle about immediately, packing up their stuff and turning their phones on loud.

Louis waited a bit for the rush to die down before he packed up his notebook and pen. As he got up, he slung his backpack over his shoulders, making contact with something solid behind him.

“Oops!” Fuck, he really should’ve looked behind him. There stood the curly-haired boy with a smile on his face, coffee dripping down his sweater.  
“Hi!” Why was he smiling? Surely, that must be hot and uncomfortable. Louis was at a loss for words, he didn’t know how to deal with people back in England, what on earth made him think that he could go to America on his own and do this?  
“Bullocks! I beg your pardon, I really cocked that up didn’t I?” Louis stopped short. Right. They don’t say that here. “Uh, I mean, darnit! I’m sorry...dude…” Louis punched his shoulder lightly for effect. Lord Jesus, kill him now.  
The curly-haired boy giggled. Oh, great, now he was laughing at him. “It’s okay, I know what that all means. My sister lives in London!” Louis sighed a bit of relief. “I’m Harry. I’m your TA for this class. What’s your name?”  
“Uh, I’m Louis.”  
“Well, Louis. It’s very nice to meet you! Did you just move here?” Harry had toned down the enthusiasm by now. His voice had turned to melted butter and Louis looked up at his face for the first time in the conversation. He was overwhelmingly pretty. Green eyes, strong jaw.  
“Uh, yeah. Just transferred for my junior year.”  
“That’s great! I think you’ll really like it here. Professor Lane is a great teacher.” Harry smiled softly, making Louis blush unnecessarily. “Would you, um, like to accompany me to the coffee shop to grab some napkins? I can show you around if you’d like?”  
Oh right, he’d momentarily forgotten that he’d already ruined any chances he’d ever had of being friends with this boy by spilling his coffee all over him. He felt his own breathing start to get short, the boy really didn’t need to see a full-blown anxiety attack to boot.  
“Uh, I can’t. Have class. Sorry. Gotta run!”

Louis sprinted out the door and onto the quad. Blood rushing to his ears, tears sprung to his eyes.  
“Louis! Wait!”  
Oh no. No no no. This wasn’t happening.  
Louis’s heels ground into the grass as he slowed to a stop, furiously wiping snot and tears from his undoubtedly red face.  
Harry was already right there. “Oh, Louis, I’m so sorry. Whatever it was that I said, I’m so sorry that it upset you.” He chanced a glance at Harry’s face. Concern was written into every wrinkle. He felt awful for having upset the boy.  
“It’s...It’s not your fault.” Louis managed through sniffles. “I’m just a total...I just...I thought I could do this.” This wasn’t like him. He had perfected the art of keeping every and all emotions inside his tiny little body. His therapist used to jokingly call him “stonecold.”  
He watched as Harry seemed to have an internal dilemma over his hands, which were floating awfully close to Louis’ shoulder. He ended up patting lightly and then removing them, placing them at his sides.  
Harry caught Louis watching him. “I read once that you weren’t supposed to touch people that are crying. That it could overwhelm them.” He smiled bashfully, apologetically even.  
Louis was so caught off guard. Who was this boy? “Uh,” He even had the means to laugh a bit. “It’s alright. You can, um. I don’t mind. Um, just the shoulder.” This was all wrong. He should be crying and alone. This boy just felt bad and was pitying him, yet, it didn’t feel that way whatsoever. There wasn’t anything patronizing about the way that Harry gestured to the grass beneath a tree, and they sat cross-legged. He really wanted to help Louis. That scared him more than he thought originally possible.  
“There we are,” Harry said with that ever-present smile. His palm was now resting on Louis’ shoulder, rubbing tiny circles with his thumb. “Now, what is it that you think you can’t do?”

Louis jumped into his story. Six siblings, three parental divorces, bad grades, rough financial situation, selfish friends, and a bout of anxiety and bipolar disorder that could make anyone shiver. He didn’t know what it was that made him spill some of his secrets so easily. Maybe it was the fact that he had no friends here, or that he just was desperate for someone to listen because his therapist was 8 hours ahead and asleep, or maybe, maybe it was just Harry.  
Sure enough Harry listened intently, nodded along, chipping in where he could:  
“You don’t deserve that treatment, Louis.”  
“With all due respect Harry, I’m not sure you know enough to say just yet.” Louis looked up from his twiddling thumbs to make eye contact with the boy sitting opposite of him on the lawn. He smiled sadly, and Harry squeezed his upper arm.  
He stopped short, eyes wide. “Sorry, you said just the shoulder! I’m very tactile.”  
“It’s okay. I can see that.” Louis found himself smiling again. This boy was okay. He breathed an air of trust that encapsulated Louis in every which way. It felt overwhelming, but for now it would do.


End file.
